


Fate's Got Nothing to Do With It

by doctor__idiot



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2016 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x22 "The Prisoner", Anal Sex, Episode Related, Isn't it always, Light D/s, M/M, Mark of Cain, Oral Sex, Rimming, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2016, Top!Sam, bottom!Dean, sex is the answer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8249725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor__idiot/pseuds/doctor__idiot
Summary: Dean is spiraling out of control and he needs to find a way to satisfy the Mark. Preferably one where no one else has to die.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been sitting in my notes folder since the episode first aired. I never finished it. And then the SPN Kink Bingo came around and I thought I could use it after all.
> 
> Written for the [SPN Kink Bingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/) prompt "Rimming".
> 
> Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Unbeta'd and written when sleep-deprived. Proceed with caution.

_Shoulda been you up there, not her._

Sam could still hear the words in his head, clear as day. They couldn’t have been seared into his brain more if his brother had screamed them at him.

He wasn’t sure whether Dean had said them because the Mark twisted his thoughts or because he meant them, but Sam figured it didn’t matter either way, because they were true.

Even if Dean hadn’t meant them, they were true, and there wouldn’t be a night in the future where Sam wouldn’t see Charlie’s face behind closed eyelids, her bedazzling smile, her disfigured corpse.

“Sammy?”

Sam startled. The quiver in the voice, underlying hint of terror obvious in just the one word, made him turn around without thinking, heedless that Dean might actually be a threat to him right now, angry and twisted as he was.

But standing in the doorway, his shirt covered in blood that was most likely not his own, he was still just Dean and Sam rushed into action.

The hand around his gun was shaving slightly. The safety was still off and it was inches from the sliding off his fingers. Sam stretched a hand out towards him.

“Dean? You okay?”

Sam advanced slowly, seeing the wounded animal in Dean’s wild eyes, the fear obvious, the anger still there underneath.

“I killed him, Sam.” Dean’s voice was nothing but a rasp and he finally let go of the gun. It clattered to the floor and Sam winced in apprehension, but it didn’t go off. He quickly, safely, kicked it to the side.

“Who? You killed who, Dean?”

Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “The kid,” he managed weakly, “I killed the kid. ’s fifteen, at most, and he begged me. He begged me, Sammy, and I shot him. He ain’t done anything besides being shit outta luck on the family front and I just … .”

Dean was looking straight at him, palms turned up, eyes begging, as if _he_ was asking _Sam_ for forgiveness.

Sam wasn’t exactly following but he didn’t think it mattered. He kept his hands in Dean’s field of vision, because even unarmed his brother was still lethal when he felt cornered.

“And Cas, I almost…”

Sam stopped dead, cold dread spreading out from his stomach and he fought for breath. “You almost what, Dean?”

Dean ran a trembling hand through his hair, making it stick up, giving him an even wilder look, even more unhinged. He was breathing hard.

“Killed him, Sam. I almost killed him, too.”

Sam nodded, struggling to stay calm. “But you didn’t, right? Dean, tell me you didn’t.”

Dean shook his head jerkily. “No, I… I didn’t, he’s okay. I think. But I… God, Sam. This has to stop.” He dug his knuckles into his eyes, dragging in a shaky breath.

Sam tried to find comfort in the fast that the incident seemed to have shaken Dean somewhat out of the Mark’s possession over him. “Tell me what happened.”

His brother looked forlorn, somehow too small for his clothes, for his body. Terrified and twelve years old.

“I … don’t know. Some of the Stynes were here when I came back and I snapped. I shot them and I’m don’t regret that, they tried to torture me, but the kid… He was just there because they were, because he had to, they probably forced him or somethin’. I killed him, too. Didn’t even think about it.

“And then Cas came in, said something about how the ‘old’ Dean would never have done that — and I suppose he’s right — and I sorta snapped all over again.”

Sam closed the last distance between them, slowly as not to startle Dean, and then, even more slowly so Dean could pull away if he wanted to, Sam wrapped him up in a wordless hug.

There was so much unresolved between the two of them but this was more important. Blind, unthinking comfort. Sam could do that.

“Dean, listen to me,” he began, his cheek pressed against the shell of Dean’s ear, “This, right now, this isn’t you. I know you’ve been insisting it is but it’s not. The Mark’s changing you and it’s only gonna get worse. It’s why I’ve been moving heaven and earth to put a stop to it.”

He flinched when he noticed the opportunity to rub Charlie into his face presented itself here but Dean didn’t take it. His shoulders were stiff, full of tension, and he was still trembling slightly.

He mumbled something Sam didn’t catch.

“What’s that?”

“I can’t hunt,” Dean repeated, “I’m a liability and a danger to everyone around me.”

“You’re not a—“

Dean dismissed Sam’s protest with a wave of his hand. He wiped his nose with his palm and started pacing.

“I’ve tried everything, Sam. Drinking myself into a stupor makes me angry. Exhausting myself with that exercise thing you love so much makes me even angrier because it’s tedious. I can’t sleep, I have nightmares. Hunting is the only… But I can’t do that when I’m a loose cannon and go around slaughtering innocent people.”

“You don’t do that.”

It was a weak effort and they both knew it.

“The kid was innocent,” Dean said dryly.

Sam inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair to calm himself. “Can I … do something to help? And don’t ask me to lock you away or tie you up because that’s not a solution.”

Dean nodded quickly. “You can fuck me.”

There was a beat of silence in which a pin drop could have been heard before Sam spluttered, “I-I can do _what_?”

“Sex. It’s the only thing I haven’t tried yet.” He sighed, “But I can’t be in control because I don’t know what I’d do and you’re the only one I trust, so I need you to fuck me.”

Sam’s mouth had dried up. He croaked, “Dean —“

“Don’t think about it.” Dean grabbed his arm, his features schooled into something resembling calm but Sam knew it was utter horse shit. “Just … do it.”

“You have thought about this.” It wasn’t a question and Dean didn’t answer. His palm was a point of heat, seeping through Sam’s clothing and scorching his skin.

His brother was looking right at him, eyes wide and scared and pleading, and it was difficult not to stare. Hard to breathe.

It wasn’t that strange of a request. It sort of made sense even to Sam, and he would laugh at the fact that _of course_ Dean’s solution to a problem would be sex, but it wasn’t all that funny to him right now.

It wasn’t even that Sam didn’t want to, but with everything still hanging between them, it was actually one of the worst idea either one of them had ever had.

Which meant, it could actually work.

“I … Okay,” he said before he had more time to think it through and analyze it from another angle. Probably better that way. “Okay.”

Dean shoulders slumped in relief and he looked genuinely _grateful_. That hit Sam more than anything else about the whole situation.

He let himself be led to Dean’s room, following his brother through the hallway like it was his second nature.

Dean stopped next to his bed, goddamn memory foam mattress, and glanced over his shoulder at Sam, seeking for _something_. Confirmation that they were on the same page, that they were doing this, that he wasn’t beyond saving yet. He seemed to be looking for instructions, too, because his hands were idle by his sides, his breathing forcibly even.

Sam took off his shoes, made a motion towards the bed. “Well, if you wanna get fucked I suggest you strip and get on all fours for me.”

The demanding tone surprised them both, Dean bristling visibly for a moment, hesitating, but Sam blinked and the fight seemed to have drained out of his brother.

Dean’s movements were sluggish when he shed his clothes as if he was already exhausted but Sam could spot the restlessness in him, could feel the air thrumming with the tension radiating from Dean.

Sam tried not to think too much about the blood on Dean’s clothes, for once not entirely happy about the fact that none of it was Dean’s.

He could see the shiver down Dean’s back even in the low light when Dean knelt on the bed, fully naked.

Sam just stood there for a moment before he remembered he was actually allowed to _touch_ now. It wasn’t strictly the first time they’ve done this but it had been such a long time and Sam honestly hadn’t thought he would ever again have the chance to touch Dean the way he wanted to.

“Sam, please,” Dean said, another thing Sam hadn’t thought he would ever get to experience again. Said with such reverence, such desperation that there was no mistaking it for anything else than yearning.

Unnecessary however it was because Sam was already there, fitting himself against his brother’s back, collar bone digging into the nape of Dean’s neck, fingers biting into Dean’s sides.

Dean made a small noise, not bothering to hide it from Sam and that was when something snapped inside Sam. Any hesitation there might have been abandoned him and Sam’s mouth was on his brother’s neck before he could think about it, blunt teeth closing over Dean’s carotid artery.

Dean arched into him, making more of those little gasping noises when Sam gripped him tighter, not protesting even when Sam’s finger nails must have been biting into his skin.

Fingers tangled in Sam’s hair, holding tight, keeping him on task, and Sam had to wrench away violently to finally get some of his own clothes off.

Dean made a whining noise low in his throat that went straight to Sam’s cock, which – Sam now noticed – was hard and pressing insistingly against the fly of Sam’s jeans.

Sam splayed a hand against the small of Dean’s back and pushed, tipping him forward into the sheets. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that Dean went willingly, letting himself be shoved around by his little brother, when that was what he so clearly needed right now, but it made Sam halt for a second regardless.

“Lube’s in the drawer,” Dean said, panting slightly and pointing a shaky hand to his nightstand but Sam didn’t even make a move towards it.

He had other ideas. “Don’t need it,” he said and licked wetly down Dean’s spine, feeling him shudder against Sam’s palms splayed across his flanks.

Sam was finally naked himself and pressed his own body against Dean’s, their skin rubbing together deliciously. He thrust his painfully erect cock against the back of Dean’s thigh a couple of times before he sat back, sliding his hands lower until he could easily spread the cheeks of Dean’s ass.

He didn’t bother supplying his brother with a warning, simply dove in with his tongue, pressing it experimentally against the furled muscle of Dean’s hole.

Dean jumped in surprise but Sam had expected it, clamping his fingers down around Dean’s hips, holding him in place.

Dean made a broken sound when Sam used his tongue and lips to open him up and pressed his face into the nearest pillow. His fingers curled in the bedspread. “Fuck!”

Sam ignored the impatient twitching of Dean’s hips, didn’t touch his brother’s hard erection once during the onslaught of his mouth on Dean’s hole until the muscle stopped clenching against him and slowly opened up, licked wet and stupid.

Bowing his back, Dean pushed right back against Sam, pearls of sweat on his skin, along the curve of his spine.

Sam didn’t think much about it when he pulled back and flipped Dean onto his back, other than that he wanted to hear all the noises Dean were making, wanted to see him and wanted him to see Sam.

Dean made a breathy hiccoughing sound and one of his hands found its way back into Sam’s hair when Sam ducked his head and sucked Dean’s cock into his mouth, taking it as deep as he could manage.

He briefly sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, too, nudging Dean’s perineum with his knuckle as a warning before pushing them deep into Dean’s hole.

Dean’s surprised shout turned into a pitiful moan when Sam immediately twisted his fingers and started fucking them in and out without much gentleness.

“Sam, I –” Dean broke off into a groan again, pulling hard at Sam’s hair when Sam added a third finger, stretching him further.

It wasn’t easy to stay on task with the way Dean was writhing and Sam’s own cock demanding attention like it was but Sam closed his eyes, letting the smell of sex and metal, leather and _Dean_ envelop him. He bobbed his head up and down on Dean’s cock a little faster, pressing his tongue hard against the tip, and the tightening of Dean’s fingers in his hair was all the warning he got.

He twisted his fingers one more time inside of Dean and Dean came with a bitten-off grunt, his feet planting themselves deeply into the mattress and Sam briefly, stupidly wondered whether those impressions were going to stay in the memory foam for awhile.

Sam swallowed once, let the rest run out of his mouth down his brother’s cock and to where Sam’s fingers were still buried, making a mess of it with a strange sense of fascination.

Dean’s hand in his hair went slack, nails scratching against his scalp when it dropped to Sam’s shoulder.

For a moment the room was silent save for Dean’s heavy breaths until Sam pressed a kiss to Dean’s fluttering belly and pushed his fingers in knuckle-deep, not giving Dean much time to recuperate.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean gasped weakly, giving a guttural moan followed by a high whine when he realized Sam wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

“You okay?” Sam muttered against the inside of Dean’s thigh, his free hand on his brother’s hip, thumb stroking the hollow point below Dean’s hipbone.

Dean made an affirmative noise, grabbing Sam’s wrist. “Come on,” he said hoarsely, not making an attempt to mask the anticipation in his voice.

Sam looked up to find his brother looking right at him. Disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, eyes slightly hazy but intently focused on Sam.

Sam was so incredibly turned on, he wasn’t sure how long he would last with Dean looking at him like that, so he pulled his fingers free from Dean’s ass and nudged his hip.

Dean turned onto his stomach. Legs spread and ass slightly raised, he pillowed his cheek on his arms, glint in his eyes as if he was daring Sam but to what Sam didn’t have any idea.

He knelt between his brother’s spread legs, palm of one hand pressed flat against Dean’s back to hold him down and the other hand on Dean’s hip, tilting it up toward him.

He had the sudden impulse to ask Dean whether he was all right, was sure, whether he wanted this but he didn’t think Dean would like that. Wouldn’t answer honestly either way and Sam didn’t trust himself enough right now to be able to tell truth from deceit, so he kept his mouth shut and pushed his cock between the spread cheeks of Dean’s ass.

Sam wasn’t sure which one of them inhaled sharply, made that hissing sound followed by a low moan, and who gasped loudly, cursed under his breath, but it didn’t matter. Dean was heat and silk and Sam honestly hadn’t thought he would remember how it had felt the last time they had done this, it had been so long.

He did now, though, and it had been just as perfect, just as awe-inspiring as it was now but it was also different now. New. The body pressing against him now was harder and bigger and so was his own. It had more scars, just like his own.

One thing Sam definitely knew. If he ever had to give this up again, he wouldn’t know what to do.

“Sammy.” Dean’s voice was near reverent. He sunk back against Sam, moving his hips to take more, inch after inch, and when he had gone down all the way, ass pressed snugly against Sam’s groin, he shivered all over and muttered something under his breath that got lost in a gasp when Sam moved.

Sam nudged his nose into the space between Dean’s shoulder and his ear. “What was that?”

He could feel Dean swallow, could feel his ribcage rising and falling rapidly.

“Said you’re fucking big, little brother,” Dean rasped, whimpering when Sam pulled out and shoved back in with a hard snap of his hips. “Forgot. Forgot how big. _Jesus_.”

Sam bit down on Dean’s shoulder on the next in-stroke. Licked over the teeth marks in a twisted apology.

“Gonna make you remember,” he said, breathless words tumbling out of him, “Gonna make sure you won’t forget ever again.”

“Yes. _God_ , yes! Come on,” Dean urged, circling his hips, meeting Sam on every thrust. He pushed up onto his elbows, supporting his own weight and most of Sam’s and Sam could feel him trembling.

He hauled Dean up, wrapping one arm around his waist, until he was half-sitting in his lap. Legs spread over Sam’s thighs, gravity worked for them and Dean sunk down lower on Sam’s cock.

He groaned, head falling back onto Sam’s shoulder and then forward again when Sam really started fucking him.

It wasn’t the best position and Sam was holding onto Dean too tightly to get much leverage but it was enough and it coaxed the most beautiful whimpers and moans from Dean’s lips. He tried to muffle them for a minute or two before he gave up and just let his jaw go slack, taking what Sam was giving to him without censoring himself.

His cock was hard again, bobbing obscenely between his legs, but he couldn’t get a hand on himself because Sam had trapped Dean’s arms between them.

Sam finally took pity, gathering Dean against his chest with one arm and wrapping his other hand around the purpling erection, jerking Dean off in time with his thrusts.

It was fairly obvious to both of them that it wouldn’t be long until they reached climax, even if Dean had come once already, and Sam drew it out as long as he could, slowing his strokes whenever he felt his orgasm approaching.

His pistoning hips came to a stop, cock deep inside of Dean, moving against Dean’s ass in slow circles, and Dean mewled.

He was quivering in Sam’s arms and Sam stroked him faster, sliding his thumb through the precome at the tip, his teeth nibbling more marks into the back of Dean’s shoulders.

Dean dug his fingernails into Sam’s thighs but Sam didn’t let go, holding him all the way through his orgasm and kissing the back of his neck, all the while desperately trying to delay his own orgasm a little while longer.

With the way Dean was seizing, his hole fluttering and clenching around him, it might just be the hardest thing Sam ever had to do.

A sobbing noise slipped past Dean’s lips when he calmed down, still shaking, still sweating, and still impaled on Sam’s cock and Sam slowly started moving again, fucking Dean gently, stroking flat palms over his flanks.

Dean’s voice sounded wrecked when he breathed, “God, Sammy.” He seemed a little out of it but he was arching into Sam all the same, hips twitching.

“Right here,” Sam whispered into the back of his head, moving his own hips faster again and the fact that Dean was still seeking out his thrusts, canting up into them instead of moving away despite of how sore and sensitive he had to be by now, finally sent Sam over the edge as well.

He grabbed Dean’s hips, pulling him onto his cock three, four, five more times before he came, spilling deep inside.

Dean gave a weak moan, wiggling his hips, silky hole milking Sam for all he was worth, and they sort of collapsed against each other. Sam’s arm still around Dean’s middle and Dean still in Sam’s lap, Sam just let his head drop onto Dean’s shoulder, cheek to sweaty cheek, and for a few minutes they just breathed.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered and now _his_ voice was full of reverence. Dean huffed tiredly.

It didn’t take long until all the bodily fluids between them caused them to stick together but Sam wouldn’t have moved for anything right then.

It was Dean who eventually pulled away, sliding out of Sam’s lap with a grimace and dropped onto his back on the bed.

He had his eyes closed and Sam sat there regarding him for a moment while they both basked in the afterglow for another minute.

Then Sam realized something.

He had just done things to his brother that would make almost anyone blush but the one thing he hadn’t done … was kiss Dean.

His gaze was irrevocably drawn to Dean’s lips and before he could think better of it, he slid down the bed to settle in next to his brother, his nose just shyly brushing Dean’s cheek.

The truth was, Sam wasn’t sure he was allowed. Dean had asked him to fuck him and while Sam had done his damnedest not to make it that, he was well-aware that Dean has asked to be _punished_.

Sam didn’t want to punish Dean. He wanted to _brand_ him, in an entirely different way than that hellish mark on his forearm did. Wanted to make Dean his, to show him he would always be there.

_Even if you push me away, I won’t ever leave._

Dean opened his eyes curiously and turned his head to the side. Before he could say something, Sam grabbed Dean’s chin, holding him in place until their lips were pressed together and Sam was sure Dean wouldn’t pull away despite his sharp intake of breath.

Sam didn’t waste time with chasteness, he opened his mouth against Dean’s, all insisting tongue and experimental teeth.

Dean yielded to him with a soft sigh and Sam pressed one of his legs between Dean’s, wrapping an arm around his middle to pull him in closer. He could already see how this might develop into an addiction. Touching Dean, kissing him, holding him. For as long as Dean would allow.

Right now, Dean didn’t seem in too much of a hurry to extricate himself from Sam. His own tongue became more adventurous and he sucked Sam’s bottom lip into his mouth, biting down lightly.

Sam didn’t want to ruin the moment by asking how Dean was feeling. Sam could tell the restlessness had disappeared from his body. The Mark of Cain still stood stark against his smooth skin and Sam couldn’t resist running his thumb over it. It seemed to be thrumming with energy and Dean shivered slightly at the touch but there was no agitation in his movements, no tension in his muscles.

Sam would take the won battle for now. They could worry about the rest of the war later.


End file.
